Interviews of Doom and Espionage
by Oustretched
Summary: I and my crazy self travel into the DP world with the help of a ghostly friend and turn the universe upsidedown as I jump back and forth from character to character, interviewing them all about the ignored Fenton and famous Phantom.
1. Vlad

"That boy was always an enigma to me."

I scribbled something down on my notepad page, and was rewarded with an annoyed eye twitch on his part. "Is this whole interview going to consist of you asking random, non-sequiter questions, then hunching over and scrawling out my responses word for word?" I smirked devilishly, and shook my head 'no'. Straightening my posture in one of his lounge chairs, I adjusted my glasses to a more professional position on my nose, and smiled in an amiable way at him and changed direction.

"I'm sorry Mr. Masters. How would you suggest I go about interviewing you properly?" He eyed me curiously, as if suspicious about my sudden obedience.

"Well, for one, you could try calling me Vlad, I suppose. Mr. Masters is simply too formal for your purposes."

I was shot a dark look, but my grin was unwavering in response and I nodded exuberantly, jotting down a few words to the paper without so much as looking to the notepad. My brown-green eyes locked onto his, and once again I had affected his perception of me somehow with my undying grin, his blue eyes narrowing only briefly to express it. With a tilt of my head, I asked him in a high, bubbly tone, "Alright then. Vlad. That should do well enough. Would you care to elaborate on your earlier comment concerning Danny Pha— I mean, Fenton?"

His shock was practically delicious to watch, his jaw dropping open the smallest fraction of an inch.

My intentional slip-up no doubt confused him, and I reiterated quickly, "Do you have anything further to say concerning the boy, in particular reference to your statement that he is an enigma? I must say I do agree, but I fear my reasoning may be slightly different, as our views no doubt vary greatly." I let myself smile in my natural crooked way, and he fell gracefully into the plush bulk of the great armchair across from me. I could feel those dark-rimmed eyes glued to me, thought I did not give any sign it bothered me. After all, I had gotten to see his ponytail in person and talk to the man; should he choose to kill me now or some such, I would have died a happy fan girl and could quite possibly come back as a ghost to haunt him anyway.

I could not say so much, of course, for I could not compromise my identity as a fan girl, or lose all chances of a proper interview, and simply stared back levelly, my crooked smile hopefully unnerving the normally so smooth and debonair man.

It achieved the desired effect, and he leaned forward, eyebrows raised apprehensively and he asked in a low, carefully constructed, as to appear aloof, tone, "What do you know of this Phantom boy?"

My grin widened, and I said coolly, "Now Vlad, I understand I asked for your advice in how to properly interview you, but I am still the reporter, so I'll ask the questions." He appeared to have been thrown off the metaphoric equivalent of a building, the answer very different from what he had sat stiffly expecting, and disbelief at my indifferent subject change was chiefly expressed in his expression.

I shrugged sweetly, and held my pencil to the paper, and I pretended to ignore it as his eyes suddenly glowed bright red in indignant anger. I was a guest here, I was not supposed to be too mean, or risk getting thrown out, but this much I couldn't resist, matching his glare with a simple look that expressed false omniscience.

"Does the poor Plasmius not like what he's hearing?" My teasing question surprised him enough for the glare to subside for a moment; before of course, it came back full force. Disapproval, surprise, and simple mistrust powered him, whereas simple interest kept me sitting still. He began to approach me, rising like a smooth creature of deathly stealth, and walked forward on long, mechanical steps.

Speaking in a gravelly, low tone, he attempted to convince me I was wrong, despite his eye color's change, "I have no idea what you're talking about. My name is Vladimir Masters; I have never heard the term 'Plasmius' before in my life."

My indifferent nod 'no' and light, "Oh, of course not," while I began to rummage through my little gray bag, digging past a cranberry juice bottle and many colored pencils, showed none of the tension he was trying to make me feel. This tension was supposed to make me reveal who I was and what I must know, or at least what I had hinted at knowing. He stood right in front of me, tall and imposing, when I finally found what I was looking for. One long hand reached out, fingers outstretched, I assume to latch onto my shoulder and make me listen to him, or overshadow me enough to make me admit my knowledge and identity. "Here we are" I exclaimed vacantly, and before he could touch me, I had slid out the Plasmius Maximus and shocked the handsome man, both mentally and physically, with it.

A writhing heap on the floor bumped against my feet a minute later, indicating he had stopped writhing from feeling the pain of the electric charge. I commented emptily, "I recalibrated it a little to have a greater lasting effect. Nice, eh?" Vlad rolled onto his back and looked up at me with a mix of respect, confusion, and what I suspected may be fear. I offered a reassuring smile, and tossed my sketch and note book to the chair, bag on top of those with the little weapon safely back within it, and helped him up. Instead of leading him back to the one-person chair he previously occupied, I plopped us both down, side by side on a deep crimson colored couch closer by.

"How long?" The question was not pleading, I was glad to note, simply curious, which meant he would be receptive to my questions.

"Five hours." The response calmed him, and I supposed the excess charge must have made him feel there was no ghost left in him at all to have to ask that. "Do not fret, Vlad, I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Once again, simple curiosity was shown, and with complete honesty I said back, not quite intending to worry him as much as I did, "I think so." The paled look, on top of his ruffled up hairdo made me laugh, and I barely restrained the urge to let it escalate into my typical cackle. "Relax nonetheless halfa-man. I am simply here to ask you questions, if not necessarily for a newspaper, as I told you before." Whether it was my honest expression or simple fatigue caused by his own invention being turned on him by a stranger, I got my wish and he collapsed backwards into his cushion, and asked me wearily, "What was your question again?"

I simply smiled at him and fetched my notebook and a pencil from the bag in the blink of an eye. He eyed me with some wonder at my calm demeanor, and said softly, "I don't believe you are a real reporter." I threw the crooked smile his way again and retorted pleasantly, "Surprisingly enough, I don't believe I am either." I cackled then, and I don't remember whether or not he was scared, but I can only imagine he must have been; my cackle, though not intentionally so, sounded frighteningly sinister, even in my best of moods. A flick of the wrist and the notebook was opened to a fresh page, pencil poised tensely over the yellow pad of legal paper.

A goofy smile I do remember wearing while I asked for the fourth time, "What do you think of Daniel Fenton?" He sighed from my side, and I tilted my head at his ruffled hair and silently pulled out a compact and brush and handed them over. He seemed unnerved by my yet again random actions, and wordlessly accepted both, looking into the tiny mirror briefly at the state of his hair before letting it down and brushing through as quickly as possible.

While I gawked at Vlad with his hair down -- I really must be a fangirl for such a ridiculous reaction -- he spoke in a level tone, "Daniel has always simultaneously intrigued and frustrated me. His mother's intelligence is passed on to him, but he also inherited the clueless-ness of his father; a man I don't believe ever deserved the prize Madeline truly is. She's so-" He stopped when I let loose an exasperated sigh. "What?"

One eyebrow cocked dangerously high, I went where no fangirl should go; to Smackdown City with their favorite character. "You're complaining about _Jack_ being clueless? In college he at least had the courage and intuitiveness to see an opportunity with Maddie… And then actually take advantage of that opportunity; something you never did." I scowled, "You should get over that woman. In case you hadn't realized, Jack's not the reason she doesn't want to be with you; _you're_ the reason she doesn't want to be with you. Ever." I glared at him, and he came close to glowering back, before sighing and asking me so quietly I had to halt even my breathing to hear the question.

"How do you know so much? Even Maddie," he eyed me and my pouting glower and rephrased, "Even some of the smartest people I've ever known are not clever enough to figure so much out about me; not even those I've known nearly my whole life."

I simply shrugged and said, "I have sources. And anyway, I'm interviewing you about Danny, _not_ his mother." Vlad's only response was a sigh, as if resigning himself to such was to be expected. I almost apologized at seeing such a disappointed face curtained beneath the light layer of white hair, but restrained myself to just a dazed smile.

He tied his hair back up in an instant, and he began talking again, jolting me enough by the subject change to remind me I was supposed to write some of this down. "I respect Daniel to a degree. He has come so far in such a brief time. The," he fumbled to avoid giving away the secret it already seemed I knew, "_trauma_ of his youth came so much sooner than it ever should for a boy, and he has been put through much more than I was after traumatic experiences in my own youth.

"I and many others much like me have hurt him, attacked him in some way, and he has thrived despite it all." He rolled his head on his shoulder to lock eyes with me, "Respect is the least I can offer for surviving such a sad existence to be forced onto his shoulders at such a tender age." I nodded sagely despite his vagueness -- obviously he couldn't give away Danny's secret, even if it already seemed I knew it -- my bun flopping about on the top of my head, and wrote down a short scribble on the page, though I guarded it from his eyes.

"Alright then…" I floundered for a second question. I hadn't exactly expected to make it this far and still be alive, so my list of questions didn't reach beyond the basic. Suddenly, I decided to reach for the subject that would always be side-to-side with any question concerning the young Fenton. A question concerning the young Phantom.

"What is your opinion of the young ghost boy, Danny Phantom?" My eyes glinted wickedly behind my glasses, and he didn't respond for a moment.

"First you must tell me what you already know of the creature."

I bit my lip and pouted, even if it wasn't attractive or if it did nothing to help; habit was habit, and I was thinking hard. It took a full minute of thought, but I finally sighed and explained quickly, "I know Danny Fenton is half human, half ghost, just like you, though under slightly different circumstances. He is the hero Danny Phantom. He is your enemy sometimes. Other times he is your ally, your child, your confidante, whether or not either of you wishes it so. He is an enigma, as you so properly put it."

I spread my lips out in the familiar gesture called a smile, that on me never looked like something remotely pleasant, but cheerful in my own way nonetheless.

He nodded imperceptibly, then froze up a second later, and asked quickly, "Wait, my child?" I raised both eyebrows and stated, "Pseudo-brother to your 'daughter' Dani." He deflated with an 'oh', shoulders sagging, but immediately puffed back out when I continued, "When you are kind to him, within range of his mother, but not stupidly throwing yourself all over her, he would be glad to be your son, you know. If you do not push him to do anything, least of all denounce Jack, he does come to you, and accepts your help; he can trust you then, or at least believes he can." Vlad nodded almost out of habit, and seemed to think it over.

I interrupted quickly with, "I'm supposed to be interviewing you." But he ignored me and asked distractedly, "Only ever my son?"

My inner demon of slash love rose up and reared it's crazy head, making me smirk and ask teasingly, "What more could you want the young hero to be for you?" Vlad would have blushed were he any normal man, but being the emotionally impervious man I adored, Vlad, simply paused, taken aback, and looked like he was seriously considering the answer to my question.

Softly, he said, "I don't really know what I want from Danny, I suppose."

The little demon cheered and I smiled evilly, "That will do."

He looked at me in an alarmed way and stood suddenly, preventing me from standing up too and leaving. "Wait! I have questions for you now." I yawned involuntarily, and said through it, "Huh. What about, darling Vladdy?" Lucky for me the last words came out garbled, and he only gave me a confused look before saying, "I just want to know who you are and what exactly your sources are."

I squinted one of my eyes and inhaled sharply, and made my thinking face, carefully considering this option laid before me. One hand rose and absently toyed with my large, circular pendant, a heavy silverish medallion before I glanced at Vlad's strangely pleading face and gave in. "Okay then. Ask away." I beamed and he reciprocated his version of a grin, a simply handsome smile making me glad I agreed.

"First question: who are you exactly, and why are you here?"

I almost shrugged, but paused and looked at my hands thoughtfully, both wrapped protectively over my little silvery amulet of sorts. "My name is Kelly Elizabeth Hines, fangirl extraordinaire, and lover of any and nearly all breeds of slash." I gave him a sheepish smile as the only explanation to his baffled expression, and finished my answer as best I could. "I'm here to interview and see the oh-so-handsome Vladimir Masters, alias Vlad Plasmius."

It took a moment to process, but he finally did, and nodded, asking another question, "Were you sent by anybody, or was it of your own free will you sought me out?"

Without missing a beat, I recited, as I had practiced, "It has been simply a passion of mine, as one of your innumerable fangirls, to meet you, speak to you, and if possible touch your," his eyes widened, "hair," and then relaxed. "I came here of my own free will, but I did get support from my fellows in the fanbase. I was requested to ask you particular questions; unfortunately I can assure you I have neither the courage nor the confidence of self to ask such… shameful questions of you."

He looked me over, measuring my physical cues to see if I was telling the truth. Apparently I was.

"Alright. Though I am a little confused what you mean by 'slash'," insert evil smirk by me, "I accept that. How did you find this all out?"

"Internet," I shot out immediately. Then I smacked my head; wrong universe. He cocked a brow, and I corrected myself, "In-bred knowledge." That earned a confused face, and I mentally berated myself. _Vlad only trusts honest people, dum-dum_. I sighed and corrected again, "I saw you on television." His simple look of continued bafflement prompted me to add cryptically, "Fangirls know everything, don't be surprised if we prove it, Vladdy dearest. Just accept that much. Telling you any more would drive you to the brink of insanity, show you how far there is to fall, begin walking you back to the realm of normalcy, then hit you in the face and kick you over the edge."

He now just deadpanned disbelief my way, but I shrugged. All I could say had been said on the matter. Anything else and I would most definitely be in trouble.

"Fourth question?" I offered hopefully. A change of subject was welcome in my opinion, and he looked me over a full minute before sighing and obligingly asked me, "So it is safe to assume that the – what was it? -- the _Chronicles of the Times_ did not send you?" I nodded and tittered a bit before saying lightly, "They don't even exist…. technically," I added, keeping in my mind the information I had been given before coming here.

Vlad seemed shocked, and then said blankly, "Are you saying that you, an otherwise complete stranger to me, tricked me into letting you come into my home, under the impression that you were interviewing me about my relation to the Fenton family, on behalf of a non-existent publication, and then proceeded to manipulate me into not only admitting my existence as Plasmius, but reveal Daniel as well? Is that it?" I nodded meekly.

Long moments inched past, and I almost apologized, but just as I opened my mouth to do so, he bowed just barely and said sleekly, making my innards melt, "Well, done, Miss Kelly Elizabeth." I could only nod. Stiff in the seat I waited out the moment of silence tensely, nearly collapsing with relief when he spoke again.

"I guess this is my last question. Hmmm, what should I ask?" And as I perked up, mischievous grin playing across the edges of my lips, he interrupted, "And no, that is not my final question, just the question precluding it." My slumped shoulders looked almost pitiable, and my crooked finger held up previously with excitement in the air before me, was similarly collapsed, as if popped. Now deflated, I looked around the room somewhat sullenly, hand and finger still out, for no reason, and did my best to think of a question.

What would Vlad Masters/Plasmius want to know about me, or want to know about that only I could tell him? My hand dropped and a wicked, malicious almost, expression made its home on my face. I spoke slowly, deliberately, coloring my tone with all the evilness my slash demon had conjured up on the spot, "Would you like for me to tell you about the meaning of slash? Or maybe how many slash fanfictions exist on the internet about you and Danny?"

He seemed to pale slightly, assuming that was possible -- he was still pretty pale from the Plasmius Maximus' effect earlier. Vlad swallowed visibly a few times, thinking my question over carefully, though his face and manner didn't change at all while the moments trickled by.

"Well?"

One questioning glance made me smirk even more and he finally sighed and closed his eyes. Speaking with as much deliberation as I had, he asked me carefully, "Perhaps you could tell me both?"

Five minutes later, I walked out of the Masters household, or should I say ran for my life, and Vlad personally saw me off his property, red in the face, screaming out the names of all assortments of delicious baked goods. He was kind enough to tell me where I could go to get them, and with a jarringly cheerful grin, I answered, "That's lovely! I'll see you there, Vladdy!"

For some reason, I cannot fathom why, he got even redder, and I simply skipped away to my mother's SUV, notebook, sketchbook, and purse in hand. I hopped in the car, and was not greeted by my mother at the wheel, but my boss. "That was highly unnecessary, getting your first subject so upset."

I simply shrugged, not questioning how he knew what I had done, simply expressing in the shrug that I couldn't help it. The child before me sighed, blood red eyes blinking shut for a moment before he flickered to the form of an older, though still young man, and turned to the driving wheel of the car and said, "The next subjects will be much worse. Try not to make them want to kill you. It's a high school after all; they can make it a painful experience for you in every way if you cross them."

"Alright," I chirruped, and flipped open my sketchbook to start drawing Vlad's expressions while they were still fresh in my mind. The man sighed, moving up in age again to the image of a frail, old creature, and drove away, a yelling Vlad Masters screaming at us from behind as we sped away, face not only flushed from anger, but from what the slash demon hoped was embarrassment.

**Interviews and Espionage of Doom #1: Vlad; complete. Interviews and Espionage of Doom #2: Casper High, upcoming.**


	2. Casper High

Footfalls clapped and echoed loudly down the hallway. Beside me, Mr. Lancer was explaining the inner workings of Casper High, and I nodded back at the end of every sentence, occasionally replying with an equally long-winded, lengthy answer to whatever he said, impressing him somewhat. My vocabulary was something to be admired, I believe he commented, and I merely nodded again.

I was glad I had worn my hair in a better 'do than usual, as it kept my hair from falling forward into my face. I had, for once, abandoned my much-beloved Converse for a pair of horridly stylish shiny flats. My spine crawled and my hands shook whenever I thought too much about what I was wearing.

To think, I, the ever-stoic Kelly Elizabeth, was wearing something fashion-forward, and above all things, _girly._ A little black and white plaid skirt, painfully short, only reaching mid thigh, swished back and forth, the neat aesthetic little pleat in its folds the only redeeming quality in my opinion. And not only that overly feminine indignity, but my disguise also included a matching plaid jacket, cut to the trend, luckily not trussed up with frills or lacy things. The only true comfort though among it all was my well-worn burgundy tank and a lovely black pinstripe fedora, adorned casually with a silk ribbon that matched my shirt. And my glasses frames were, instead of their usual turtle pattern coloring, a swirling, marble pattern grey and burgundy, along with my eyes being a deep grey color thanks to contacts. I matched from head to toe, and my disguise was immaculate, though it made me a little weird-feeling to not look like my usual self.

My inbred fidget was well masked though with the false persona I had given, labeling myself new student to Casper High and to Amity Park, name false and of my own design, and personal style preferences shoved aside for my job. We, Mr. Lancer and I, wove together through the building, stopping briefly to note my classroom locations. And twice more so I could have my two lockers; one for gym and one for academic purposes.

As we went, Mr. Lancer eventually finished his little speech about the dignity of Casper High. I smiled and complimented it all with a bland and genial air. After he looked over my schedule once more with a furtive look to his wristwatch, he announced, "It seems your third period class has been over for awhile, Miss Bourdensauan, and the 45-minute lunch period is just starting. I shall walk you to the cafeteria."

"Thank you," I returned, following obediently at his side. A moment of silence prompted me to ask curiously, a false hint of nervousness making my voice a higher pitch than normal, "I have heard rumors of Amity Park and many of its landmarks, including the school, being haunted... Is this true, Mr. Lancer?"

The balding teacher eyed me before answering in a tone of forced casualty, "We do see our share of ghosts, but don't worry. The local ghost hunters, the Fenton's, are completely in control."

I nodded, feigning reassurance before smirking demurely behind my hand while Mr. Lancer was suddenly distracted. The loud war cry of, "_GHOST!_" rang through the small hallway, eliciting an instantaneous expression of dread in Mr. Lancer, and not a moment later none other than Jack and Maddie Fenton themselves barreled around the corner, screeching to a halt a few feet in front of me.

The tracker Maddie held squealed its confidence that a ghost was near in high, pitchy bleeps. I widened my eyes briefly behind my glasses frames, before I saw brief flash of red eyes and intertwined initials. I relaxed. This was not a ghost who was interfering with my plans; lucky for me, this ghost was helping me guide the plan along. I took the hint, and so followed his implied suggestion in his leading the Fenton's here, to me of all people or places.

I stepped forward and spoke gravely and quickly, "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. I fear you just now missed the ghost I assume you were chasing, but from what I saw, it is not a threat to you. Not to force you to digress from your actions, but my name is Addrianna Lucidœra Malyficent Bourdensauan, and as a citizen of Amity Park, I greatly admire your valiant efforts to protect our city from those who carry the malicious intent of evil and can only hope you accept my heart-felt salute to you and your years of training and skill. Would it be selfish at all of me to presume to ask for an opportunity to discuss ghosts and the art of effectively hunting them with you both at a later date?"

They stood and blinked for a little bit before Jack lit up and gave me a goofy grin and said, "Sure! Any young mind willing to study ghosts is welcome to ask!" Maddie nodded as well but eyed me and my earnest expression curiously before looking off both ways to the sides, still unsure of whether or not the ghost was really gone, despite the suddenly quieted tracker device.

"I thank the both of you so very much," I gushed, and then pretended to be flustered as I nimbly pulled out a mini day planner from my ridiculously overly fashionable bag, and flicked it open, inspecting each page before asking hurriedly, "May I come to your home to discuss this issue with you both this coming Thursday afternoon?" My eyes glimmered with hope, and Jack took command, as I expected, while Maddie stood by, agreeing with most of what he said.

"Thursday it is!" He looked joyous a moment more before shock appeared, and he said to Maddie in a loud undertone, "If we're going to talk to her about ghost-hunting, we're gonna need all our weapons and theories to show her!" She looked me over again, and I straightened my posture under her considering scrutiny.

"Alright," she finally answered, and added to me, "Come to FentonWorks at 3:30 this Thursday. Jack, if we finish up with this ghost and head home now, I can make us some lunch before we go through our weapons and files in the lab to show Addrianna here." I beamed, as did Jack, and as they turned to leave, I asked them innocently, "Didn't you know? They're serving lunch here right now. There isn't even a need to leave just yet, if you really must follow this ghost. Simply acquire sustenance here then go back to business elsewhere on the campus, yes?"

Jack's eyes widened and he ran towards the cafeteria without another word. Maddie seemed dumbstruck by his disappearance, and I added in mock worry, "Your son's in there, I think. I hope Mr. Fenton doesn't embarrass him." She mirrored my worried look and chased off after Jack.

I looked triumphant behind my falsely gray eyes as I turned back to Mr. Lancer, who looked shocked by my smooth and sudden manipulation of the two adults. I put on a mask of innocent indifference and said, "It would be better if he ran in there for food instead of over ghosts he thinks are likely going to attack the students, right Mr. Lancer? Especially if they really do have a kid or two, even more so if that kid is already low on the social ladder, which one could only assume given his parents jobs in this community and your expression when they appeared." I shrugged off the whole thing as if it were some simple thing to be understood and known by even the most common of people on sight.

But the pudgy, balding man didn't drop it and followed me as I walked at a slow, lazy pace to the cafeteria. He asked in a stammer, "How did you… I mean, for the love of the Count of Monte Cristo… how did you manage to figure out… well, all that?"

His tone amused me, but I kept my words cautiously unyielding as I explained blandly, "From the size of Mr. Fenton, it's clear he enjoys food, and if he were to go running into a cafeteria full of students screaming about something like, I don't know, fudge, instead of about some malicious ghostly entity intent on doom and destruction being reigned down on the city's heads, it may be easier to avoid ridicule towards the two and their child or children, or avoid a panic, should the warning be taken seriously." Mr. Lancer's expression of dumbstruck confusion had not abated when I looked back, and so I turned forward again and spoke faster and with an edge on my voice, "Also, from the ridiculous habits of Mr. Fenton, I should assume his wife loves him very much, and they should, therefore, have at least one or two children, and it's assumable they are of the high school attending ages. And if Mr. and Mrs. Fenton really are professionals protecting Amity Park, would it not be a good thing as a new citizen, inexperienced in the day-to-day encounters with ghosts in comparison to others in the city, to learn from their years of study?"

With that I stopped and turned again, giving Mr. Lancer an intense stare. We were just ten feet down the hall from the cafeteria and I hadn't given myself a proper arsenal of background information and sources yet. I couldn't interrogate other students about Danny in either role he played in the city if I in all technicalities I didn't even know either of him existed yet. Through the windows in the doors down the way a dozen or so feet, I could see a large, orange-clad form, which could only be Jack, flashing by every so many seconds, followed closely by a teal-colored blur which I guessed was Maddie. Focusing intensely on the English teachers face before me, with its odd black goatee amongst an otherwise hairless countenance, I needled curiously, "Or are they not the only protectors of Amity Park?" He blinked a few slow times before stammering, "Well, there is the ghost boy…"

"Ghost boy?" I echoed immediately. "Who is that?" My eyes wide open, unblinking in my charade as a sincerely uninformed new kid. This seemed to make him more at ease, me feigning to know so little, and the elder responded with a lighter tone, more sure of himself, "He's been seen all over Amity Park, so we don't think he haunts anywhere in particular," at which I bit back the urge to giggle from his ignorance, hiding the suppressed laugh under a stiff mask. "And usually when spotted he's seen fighting other ghosts. He's called Danny Phantom and he's actually acquired quite the—err," an awkward cough, "_Fanbase_ here at Casper High."

He gave me a scrutinizing look and I smiled and began walking slowly down the hall once more, away from his prying eyes, when out of the blue, Jack burst back out of the cafeteria doors, speeding down the hall and away before I could blink, Maddie close behind. I followed their exit, and Jack's chocolate smeared appearance, with my eyes and only said, "Hmmm." My voice peaked pitch-wise as I half-sang, half-spoke, "Anywho," and began walking again towards the doors, still swinging in Jack's wake.

"Should I expect a warm welcome from the illustrious student population of Casper High, Mr. Lancer?" The distance between me and the door was down to three feet before he answered, after a long silence and a pensive look.

"Don't cross Paulina," he advised. Rubbing his bald head sadly, he added, "It invariably ends badly."

I nodded and pushed past him into the cafeteria finally, letting the middle-aged man walk to his classroom alone while every eye in the in the cafeteria immediately turned my way. Thanks to Jack's brief interlude a minute prior, I could see two flipped over tables and some chocolate pudding splattered everywhere from the corners of my eyes skyward. In fear of a similar scenario coming to life so soon after the other ended, all eyes were on me, warily sizing me up for potential damage capabilities.

Considering the image I was trying to impress upon my fellows, I kept a cool, empty expression, staring them all down without actual eye contact while I mildly checked my fingernails for dirt. And when a large, gooey blob of the pudding freed itself from the ceiling and began it's descent towards my head, I waited until the last moment, watching every other students eyes following it down, before I acted. In one smooth dip, I bent down, and swiped a discarded plastic spoon off the floor. Then I caught the gobbet gracefully before flinging it and the spoon away into a nearby trashcan and I rose out of the half-crouch to my full height, heels and all. A second later, the spoon and its contents landed with a dull thump, and I, still silent, walked forward now, through the eerily quiet cafeteria.

As I went, people seemed to shake themselves from the stupor of a complete stranger appearing and then the lazy, cautious murmurings began, no doubt voiced by those curious as to who I was and why I was here. An excellent position in which to find myself, as it offered the opportunity to mold everyone's mind with a different image each, as per my individual purposes for them all.

My feet carried me past many crowded tables to one lightly populated, but still full, table of only the best occupants; it was the essential headquarters for these popular students of Casper High. Paulina, Dash, Kwan, and Star all looked at me with bemused but still magically infused with self-importance expressions. I matched the haughty, self-righteous air they held over my head contemptuously, and threw it all back at them with a smirk all my own.

I held out my hand, limp at the wrist, in the style of a Victorian woman expecting a chivalrous peck on the wrist, and greeted lightly, slight clip of a Russian accent hinted in, "Hello. I am Addrianna Lucidœra Malyficent Bourdensauan. Would you mind most terribly if I were to be permitted to join your table for this lunch?" Shifting my weight over to one side, I uninterestedly struck the pose of a stereotypical teen, one leg supporting me while the other draped out; one hand resting casually on my hip, head cocked to one side. I even wore the pooched-out lower lip of a pout. "Well?"

They visibly measured me up, before, with a barely perceptible nod, Paulina turned to Kwan and Star and indicated for them to scootch over. I continued my smirk as I slid onto the bench. All the other kids in the cafeteria still following my progress chose then to begin chattering even louder. Not only had this new girl impossibly caught and flung away an errant glob of chocolate pudding that fell from the sky before they could react themselves, but now, she had infiltrated the "popular table" without breaking a sweat or spazzing out, and within a mere minute of appearing.

With poise, I dropped my ridiculous bag on the seat beside me, and waited for them to speak. My boss had explained that acceptance with them was a waiting game; the way this played out relied on them waiting for me to crack under the pressure of the silence. Only if I could survive the silence without blurting something dorky could I ever hope for my plan to succeed and be deemed acceptable by these bubbleheads. Armed with this knowledge, I did just that, smiling girlishly and modestly at them all from underneath dark and heavily-lidded eyes and lashes.

A minute passed, and I didn't utter a word, though so much could not be said of the students around me. As the first minute inched by, I let my eyes roam over the whispering people, coming to rest on a table almost as sparsely populated as this, but not as highly regarded. The three people at the table were sharing the pursuit of stealing furtive glances at me. I caught the eye of Tucker Foley when he looked my way, and with no hesitation, I lifted one hand and waved flirtatiously at him, and a second passed before Tucker, wearing a shocked and dazed smile, waved back timidly.

Either rejection had severely numbed him enough to accept such blatant flirting so quickly, or my image, so quickly forged, was already working its magic. I took what I got, knowing him admiring me a little, or at least liking me would come in handy if and when the time came to interview him, too. Plus, he _was_ actually pretty cute.

My attempt at Flirting From Afar apparently made up the popular bubbleheads minds for them. In her high, annoyingly self-assured way, the queen bee asked, "Addrianna? Do you mind if I just, like, call you Anna? It's so much cuter." And I answered loyally to this ruler of ditzes, "Oh, but of course not. But what am I to know all of you by?" One by one, they each introduced themselves at my inquiry, already accommodating to me, and I smiled bright and plastic the whole way through.

"Dashiel Baxter, call me Dash." Here the blond muscle-bound one dropped me a disgusting wink. "I'm the school quarterback."

"I'm Kwan." There was a three-second pause before the slant-eyed boy, the stereotypical Asian character in this reality, bound by social code to never be in any way outspoken, added self-consciously, "I play football on the team with Dash."

"My name is Star, and no matter what people tell you, _don't_ call me 'Satellite.'" This stick-thin, dull-eyed, bleach-blond-to-the-brain, future trophy wife even used air-quotes with the apt name. The smile I wore quirked momentarily, all I could do despite the urge to laugh aloud. With a sniff, she added testily, "It's totally not true," and I mentally had to disagree.

The Latina looked miffed through her dim smile and said, "Way to save me for last guys." A flash crossed her normally empty eyes and they all sat erect, clearly repenting for ignoring their queen, however briefly. As she was about to say something no doubt not at all witty, but very biting, I interjected, "But, unnamed young Duchesse of the school, shouldn't those most worthy our attentions and admiration always be saved for the end, if only to leave the mind with a lasting, overall exceedingly pleasant impression?" A slow second passed and I rephrased, mimicking a slightly dumber accent as I said, "Y'know: best for last?"

Were they anyone other than the "cool kids", they would probably have responded in a chorus of long, breathy "ohhh"'s. But as it were, this was a group of poised models of maximum teenage aloofness, and the proof that they understood what I said was a synchronized collection of self-congratulating smiles -as if this was something they had figured out themselves- followed immediately by a smooth and complete ignoring of the comment made.

"Anyway, I'm Paulina Sanchez." Practically giddy from the knowledge of her own popularity, she crowed, "Everyone here loves me!" I would've sworn she literally bounced up and down in her seat as she threw out her arms exuberantly and beamed perkily at everyone, but in all technicalities, that's a rather irrelevant detail, however revealing to her character. The three others at the table smiled, and Star began to compliment Paulina endlessly.

I kept smiling at them, but quickly closed my lips over my less-than-perfectly aligned teeth. Closed, my grin looked more cruel and evil than it typically should, I noted, checking out me and my surroundings with a compact picked from the bag at my hip. So I downgraded the expression again into a simple bubblehead grin, stupid as I felt with it on. But this new face pleased them and we all smiled at each other. Within a minute, everybody was talking about random school things.

Dash and Kwan were talking about football, occasionally leaning towards me to brag a bit, trying to impress upon me just how amazing I should find them. Paulina and Star once or twice complimented my clothes, but mentioned getting me something new, and I had to smile weakly and agree before they'd drop the subject. More clothes and going shopping with girls who knew the fashion world like their own last names could be helpful, but I would have to lie about a bit more than my name should I ask for help picking out sets of nerdy, gothic, or low-class clothes.

True enough, as scintillating as the talk of nearly breaking an ankle in high heels, or how far the football team could punt was, I was itching to begin grilling them all on Danny Fenton, who was watching me warily from across the cafeteria and on Phantom, who I would have to plan a way to meet eventually. But I needed a proper opening into the subject; I couldn't just out of the blue bring up a ghost boy that a new kid shouldn't know about. They wouldn't approve of me having asked Mr. Lancer. I had asked him for his opinion, and for the option of a reference in other conversations. Here and now was not the place to have any semblance of a respectful relationship with an unfashionable authority figure.

My chance came much sooner and easier than I expected, and in the form of a pair of giggling idiots. Paulina and Star were tittering back and forth about a party the richer of the two was having soon, and how they would be dressed in their best in the hopes of seeing the ghost boy there. Aside from the mental note that this meant I would also have to get a dress when they kidnapped me for a shopping trip, I jumped in.

It was nearly impossible not to smirk at the ease in which they accepted my high, bubbly, breathy giggles with theirs, and glance over at Tucker's table, and to Danny, the boy none of them realized they were talking about. Tucker waved at me this time, while my eyes were still in his direction, and I waved yet again, this time adding a short blow-kiss.

The tech geek swooned in his seat, and began to talk high speed to Danny next to him, and Sam, who had turned away from the table to join watching me for a minute. Thankfully, his words made her turn away, regarding me as curiously as Maddie had, and I was able to just smile and begin my question here, as long as Paulina and Star were properly focused.

"What does he look like? Who is this ghost boy?" They supplied answers quickly, after needlessly exclaiming to themselves about how terrible it was I hadn't even seen him before, how cute this boy was. I was told he was tall. A cute nose that added a hint of adorability to the manly picture they painted with gushing words. Bright emerald eyes that could melt my heart from the inside out if I saw them, which I doubted, but kept silent about, A smile to dazzle even the most beautiful Hollywood actresses. A body so gorgeous I'd swoon the second I saw it. Muscles, courage, every feature known only to the mythical Adonis, and they kept going on and on.

After a while, though, even the prettiest of words get irritating, and I intervened, asking a new question, which actually and thankfully quieted them briefly while they thought. "What does he actually do in and for Amity Park?" Their answers were less than eloquent, but satisfying, and worked for my supposed introduction to the boy who protected this city so selflessly.

"Phantom is always there when there are like, other, less cute and handsome ghosts there. The other ghosts try to hurt us, but Phantom, he, like, always saves the day." Star nodded in agreement and added, leaning in confidentially, "And he does it all in a skin-tight black and white suit. Totally hot."

I smiled sincerely now. And even though they didn't realize it was my expression I made when holding back a cackle, they still smiled with me, and to humor them, I asked, "Have you ever gotten to actually talk to him? And what can he do?" They actually did bounce in their seats this time as they back and forth supplied me with answers. Paulina started, saying quickly, "Well, one time he actually called me by my name! I think he likes me—""Oh, he totally does, Paulina." "Thanks Star. And he can fly and stuff, too!" "Yeah, not only can he fly, but he can also shoot lasers out of his hands!" Paulina giddily added, "I usually end up seeing stars if I watch his fights, the beams are that bright."

Falsely dubious I said, "Laser beams? I'm gonna have to see it to believe it. But can this ghost boy really and truly fly? If only the day of his appearance before me would come so much sooner—for it to be this day itself would be bliss itself! To see the boy of mussed white locks and the flight of a dove would leave my heart in the highest of clouds, high up among the blissful deathless gods." I stopped mid-rant, hands clasped over my chest to see them all staring at me, Kwan and Dash with some food hanging out of their mouths.

Star and Paulina were first to break the silence, Star offering a slow, "whoa," and Paulina waiting a second before trilling out in her high-pitched Latina squeal, "That is so pretty! Is that like out of a book? It sounds like that stuff Mr. Lancer talks about in class while I do my make-up." As I couldn't do much else, I only smiled and said, mimicking her pitch and excitement, "Pshaw, of course! It's from something by, like, the Greeks or the Etruscans or something." I flipped my hand out in a dismissive gesture, but before I could move on Paulina said loudly, "The who?"

At this point, I was beginning to become a bit more than aggravated with her lack of intelligence, so I finally frowned and said, faking confusion, "I don't really remember." Standing up, I quickly slipped my bag back up and on my arm with the strap nestled in the crook of my elbow, and offered my excuse for early departure. "I'm afraid I must leave you four for a brief window of time. I am required to return to the Main Office to finish filling out my school transfer papers and get my schedule. Hopefully this interlude will not disallow me the pleasure of getting to know you all in the remaining classes for this first day of mine in Amity Park. _Bon journée, mes amis_."

Hopefully they were too confused by my use of French to call me back before I could no longer hear them. As a safeguard against getting called out to by another student and having to answer, I pulled a set of clunky Bose headphones from my bag, and slipping them onto my head, pulled out the accompanying MP3 player. Volume turned to maximum, I blotted out the world, only making sure to send a smirk and wink Tuckers way before I turned on my heel and left the cafeteria on winged feet.

In the hall, I was once again greeted by my boss, invisible save for his eyes, which I absently noted were rounder and lower to the ground. What I assumed was his set of child eyes I smiled at and said in a low tone after pulling the phones off of my right ear and pointing it generally in his direction, curious but cautious not to let anyone within range of the inside of the cafeteria doors hear, "I did better this time, right? No screaming interviewees, nobody hating my guts for revealing something from the inner working of the fandom to them." Revealing all of his smaller-scale self, with its round face and diminished stature, the boss smiled back and said in his ageless voice, "Yes, you did exceedingly well this time. I knew you would, of course."

"Of course," I returned smirking. Hefting my bag higher and dropping the headphones back over my ear, I walked forward and straight through him before he went invisible again and disappeared, heading off to the office to either A – finish my paperwork like a good little girl when the nurse went out for her afternoon coffee break, or B – Snoop through the files and read everybody's permanent records.

Sure as the sun, in half an hour when the nurse got back from wherever she went for her caffeine, I was sitting in the high-backed office chairs, stack of papers in my lap.

Not anyone's files but my own, of course -like I would actually get caught doing something illegal- and she smiled at me like I were some model citizen, and never thought to look for the files which, instead of being in the filing cabinets among all their other brothers and sisters, now resided in my oversized patent leather bag, alongside my spare ecto-gun and a silver amulet. I turned the filled-out papers in and handed them over. Not even looking to see if what I wrote was true, she handed over a schedule with all the right classes. I grabbed the bag, pretending it was still feather light, despite the ten odd extra pounds of weight, and trotted away, heading gleefully towards my fourth period English course.

Were someone watching they could suspect I was off to see a great many friends in that class. But of course, how could I? I was Addrianna, new student to Amity Park; I most definitely didn't know Tucker Foley, Dash Baxter, Danny Fenton, Kwan Long, Valerie Gray, or Sam Manson, none of whom did I know for certain to be in this class. That would be silly.

Interviews of Doom and Never-ending Espionage #2, Casper High: complete; Interviews #3, Black and Gray, upcoming.


End file.
